


I'm sorry

by ilse_writes



Series: Team spirit [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Being sorry, Detective Reed - Freeform, Gavin is a little shit, Gavin on pain medication, Hospital, Hurt Gavin Reed, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Nurse Nines, RK900 is called Nines, Rk900 is human, Soft Gavin, Stubborn Gavin, soft nines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 16:07:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20066779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilse_writes/pseuds/ilse_writes
Summary: Gavin gets hurt on the job. It's not life threatening, but he is still very sorry it happened. And he needs to let Nines know that.





	I'm sorry

**Author's Note:**

> This work fits in the same AU as 'Team Spirit', but it's a few years later.

“We’re almost there, Reed.” Lieutenant Anderson glanced over to the man on the passenger seat, who leaned against the window. His eyes were crammed shut, his lips a tight line. With his right arm he held onto the handle above his head, his other hand was pressed against the wound in his abdomen.  
“I still don’t get why you didn’t want the paramedics to take you!”

“They had other people to worry about,” the wounded detective grit out. 

“Your stubbornness will get you killed someday,” Anderson answered, shaking his head. “At least this is your car. I wouldn’t want your blood all over my seats.”

“Like a little blood could fuck up your car. That old wreck is beyond saving.”

Their bickering made the time go faster and it made the detective forget about his pain a little. Before he knew it, they were in front of the red brick hospital. Gavin looked up at the sign above the entrance.  
“Henry Ford?!” he exclaimed. “Why did you take me here?!”

“It’s the closest, and you know it. Now shut up and get out of the car.” Anderson got out and jogged over to grab a wheelchair from next to the entrance and wheeled it up to the car. His partner was still sitting there with the door closed. “God damn it, Reed! Get out of that car!”

“Take me to St. John’s.” His voice was muffled through the closed car door, yet Anderson could understand him perfectly.   
The lieutenant ripped the door open, jostling his partner as his support suddenly disappeared from behind his shoulder.   
“Jezus, Hank! Be a little more careful!”

“I’ll be more careful if you stop being such a stubborn ass! Now get out and get in this wheelchair. You need medical attention and this is the closest ER.” Anderson held out a hand to help Reed out of the car. It took a few moments for the detective to move, but eventually he was in the wheelchair and Anderson could take his partner inside. 

The ER of the Henry Ford Hospital was open 24 hours a day and Anderson had never seen the place empty, no matter what time of day he arrived here. The paramedics from the crime scene had called ahead, so when Anderson flashed his badge they were quickly taken to one of the examination rooms. Reed was put on a table and they made quick work of his shirt by cutting it away. 

“Should’ve worn my hoodie, not the stupid button up,” the detective muttered.

“You always act like that hoodie of yours is made out of kevlar. It’s not, I tell you.” Anderson shook his head again. His partner was a damn good detective, a quick thinker and braver than was good for him. Or maybe it was more stupidity than bravery.

“Lieutenant, can you step outside please?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Anderson nodded to the female nurse. Without thinking, he had followed his partner into the examination room. He quickly stepped out again, walking towards the little waiting area at the end of the hall. There was a coffee machine there, immediately making him feel the tiredness in his bones. It was 3 AM, he really shouldn’t do drug busts in the middle of the night anymore. At his age he deserved more decent working hours, right?

He just sat down with his coffee when a familiar figure in blue scrubs rushed past. “Hank,” the person said with a small nod of his head.

Anderson nodded back, lifting his coffee in a little salute. He grimaced a little when he thought of what Reed would face in a couple of moments.

***

Expert hands took care of the bloody mess on his abdomen. They gave him a shot of something that made his head fuzzy and took away the sharp edges of the pain. He knew the wound wasn’t too bad, they already told him nothing vital was hit. It just was a mess, yet that was to be expected if you got ripped open by a broken bottle.   
Gavin stared at the ceiling while around him bodies moved and people were saying things that he couldn’t make sense of. The pain was bearable; it sucked, but he had worse. 

A light face crowned with dark hair appeared above him. A sparkle caught his eyes. The person wore a gold ring on a necklace around his neck, the jewelry catching the light of the bright lamp above the table. It matched the ring on Gavin’s right hand. 

Gavin tried to lift his hand, but his arm was fastened to the table, an IV stuck in the inside of his elbow. He swallowed audibly.   
“I’m sorry, babe.”

The face above him turned away and asked some questions from the other people in the room. The questions and the answers were chock-full of medical jargon, making it impossible for Gavin to understand. Surely they would tell him the same as they told Gavin: it was just a flesh wound. An ugly, jagged up cut, yes, but not life threatening. 

The doctor came by, took a short look and left again, leaving Gavin in the capable hands of the ER nurses. 

“I’ll stitch him up,” the tall nurse with the necklace offered. He already moved towards the cabinets to get the materials. 

“This is not your patient!” one of the other nurses protested.

“I’ll stitch him up,” he repeated. “I’m the one who has to look at the scar every day.” 

There were noises of a small table being wheeled over and tools being laid out. Gavin had been in this situation often enough to know what was happening around him.   
“Babe, you don’t have to,” he brought up feebly, trying to lift his head from the table.

“What? Look at it? Or stitch you up?” Gavin flinched from the hardness in the voice.

“I already said I’m sorry…” His eyes watered up. With his one free hand he felt around blindly to get a hold of his partner. 

The unknown nurse he grabbed by her scrubs gently pushed his hand back on the table. “Please lay still, Mr. Reed.”

The area of the wound was well sedated. He only felt small tugs were the edges of the wound were being drawn together. The nurses were mostly silent, only passing quiet comments about treating the wound.

Tears dripped down from Gavin’s eyes. He knew he had to keep still, but it was hard. He wanted to hold his partner, tell him he was sorry for this mess, tell him he loved him, tell him…  
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”

“For what?” The voice still sounded angry. “For not wearing protective gear when you go on a bust? For running head first into danger again?”  
The next tug on his abdomen was harder, a sharp pain pushing through the sedation.

“No…” Gavin wailed quietly.

“No?” 

“I’m sorry… So sorry.” His head rolled around on the table. He had trouble keeping his eyes open. He squeezed them shut and opened them again. This was important. He had to tell Nines how sorry he was.  
“I really am sorry, Nines.”

His partner sighed. “I know.”

A new flush of tears rolled down Gavin’s face. “I really didn’t mean to…” He tried to move his head so he could see the nurse who was stitching him up. “I’m so sorry I ruined it…”

“Ruined what?” Nines’ voice was almost back to the warm timbre Gavin loved so much. 

“The shirt… So sorry…” There, he said it. Nines had to know this. He swallowed heavily, his throat was closing up. 

“What are you talking about?” The nurse sounded puzzled. He halted his movements. Two warm weights rested on the side of Gavin’s stomach: his hands.

There was some movement and the other nurse held up something from a plastic bin. “He was wearing this when he was brought in.”

Two seconds of silence and then Nines chuckled. “You were worried about the shirt?” He rolled his stool over to the top of the table so Gavin could finally see him. 

“I ruined the shirt you got me,” Gavin hiccuped past the lump in his throat. Fresh tears filled his eyes. 

A smile formed on Nines’ face, his eyes crinkling a little as he looked down on Gavin. “You silly man,” he whispered, shaking his head a little. “Some criminal slices you up and you worry about a stupid shirt.”  
He leaned down, carefully holding his hands out of the way, to kiss Gavin on his brow. “I’ll get you a new one.”

“Don’t,” Gavin urged. “I hated that shirt. Too many buttons.” He rolled his head over to search for Nines. The handsome nurse kept slipping from his vision. “But I’m still sorry it got ruined.”

The nurse rolled his eyes in a fond way. “You get so loopy when you’re sedated,” he chuckled. Gavin received another kiss on his brow. “Now hold still, I’m not done yet.”


End file.
